


Noisy Days

by GingerWolf



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkwardness, Blushing, F/M, Fluff, POV Second Person, Shyness, Slow Romance, Solavellan glimpses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-04-29 00:04:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerWolf/pseuds/GingerWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You lived a peaceful life until the Mages and Templars turned the Hinterlands into a battleground. Peaceful days quickly become kill or be killed battles for survival. Refugees flee everyday to seek the shelter of the Inquisition, an organization dedicated to help put an end to the chaos. You follow the refugees determined to join, to help in anyway possible even if it means leaving all hopes of peace and quiet behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First day, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to GorillaInTheMist for helping me out with this and being my editor. Also a special thanks to everyone in chat that encouraged me to do this.

It’s late morning when you walk through the gates of Haven and climb the steep steps. A gruff, impatient voice greets you, “Hey you, Kn- Elf! You don’t look busy. Come here.” You stare at the blond human man beside the cluttered merchant table nearby, turning a pointed finger at yourself. “Yes, you. Do you see any other kn- elves around here?” You hold your tongue, ears burning as you walk up to his table. This man has almost insulted you twice, but you have seen the horrible things that happens to elves who stand up for themselves. “Tell that cheap blighter Adan that if he wants these herbs he can get them at the same prices as everyone else, no less than eight.” A message? Okay, that's not so bad, you can do that.

  
“Yes, Ser. Right away, Ser.” Your voice quiet as you do a quick bow and run off up the next set of stairs. You come to a group of tents and a fork in the path that makes you realize you have no idea where you’re going or who Adan is. You very well know you can't just run all over Haven looking for one person. You spot a golden headed dwarf in a red open chest tunic near the tents. Maybe he’ll know where or who this Adan is. “Um… excuse me, Ser?” He turns and your stomach twists with nerves. “Do you um... Do you know where I can find someone named Adan?” The words come out in more of a whimper than anything resembling a statement. Normally, you would keep your head down avoiding anything unnecessary such as most conversations. Beating around the bush and being pleasant aren't skills you excel at, which tends to get you into trouble with people, so you always feel pressure to not mess up. Something about Haven makes you nervous, like you know you’ll be dragged from your comfort zone.

  
The dwarf shocks you with a wide grin as he crosses his arms and shifts his weight, looking up at you. “First day, huh? I can tell.” Eyeing your travel torn clothes along with the various cuts and bruises covering you. “You look like you escaped a druffalo stampede. Let me guess, someone grabbed the first elf they saw without thinking that maybe you weren’t a servant or messenger.” You nod slowly, unsure what you would say in this situation. He chuckles lightly, shaking his head with a sigh, “Varric Tethras.”

  
“Seth. The merchant down there snatched me up as soon as I walked through the gate.” You toss your thumb back and Varric leans to look past you. Good way to inquire who sent you.

  
“Oh, Seggrit. Why am I not surprised?” He grimaces and points to his left, “Follow the path straight past the tavern and up the stairs. You’ll see Chuckles, trust me you’ll know when you see him, keep going straight Adan should be in the middle building.”

  
“Thank you, S-” He halts you mid bow by holding up his hands.

  
“None of that, Noisy. It’s Varric.” He grins again sending you off with a pat on the shoulder.

  
The tavern is hard to miss, you hear it before you even turn away from Varric. Music, laughter along with the smell of meat and alcohol pour from it. When you pass by you double take. A scrawny elf with short, choppy blonde hair is hanging upside down from the rafters shouting out vulgarities as she tries to land bits of cheese in the mugs of several soldiers singing drunkenly along to the minstrels playing. Shaking your head with a sigh you resolve not to ask and continue along the path to the small stairs. Guessing that the bald elf staring at the giant green pulsing hole in the sky with the look of someone who shit the bed must be the ‘Chuckles’ Varric spoke of. You continue forward to the middle building. Once inside you see a man bent over a table in concentration and that familiar knot of nervousness twists itself deep in your stomach.

  
“Please tell me you have a reason to be here, otherwise you’re blocking the door.” The man straightens, crossing his arms as he turns toward you with an indignant grunt. “Well?”

  
Taken aback by the man’s grumpiness you fumble with your words, “Adan? Are you Adan?”

  
The man groans into his hands, “Really? I don’t have time for stupid questions. Yes, I am, now why are you here?” You blank for a moment until he snaps his fingers, “Any time now.”

  
“Seggrit asked- Told me he can't let the herbs go for anything less than eight.” Creators don’t ask any questions about it. You not really sure what herbs they’re talking about and you definitely didn’t want to say it the way Seggrit did this guy is grumpy enough.

  
“Fine. We’ll gather our own. Tell Seggrit he better hope he doesn't need a salve anytime soon.” Adan replies quickly the darkness of his threat made certain from his tone.

  
Surprised you just gape. You point at yourself then behind you then at him. Flustered would be an understatement. “Do you really want me to tell him?” You are so uncomfortable.

  
He just stares at you. You shift nervously. Then he laughs. Really laughs, “If you’d like. Although maybe you could help me out. Do you know what elfroot looks like?” You just give him your best ‘Are you kidding me’ face. “Well if you ever feel like picking some I’m willing to pay a silver for every bundle you bring. It’s not much but it's what I can afford at the moment. It’s what we need the most around here.”

  
“I will think on it, Ser. If that is all?” You wouldn’t mind picking some eventually, but you need rest and warmer clothes first.

  
“Ah, yes. Go off somewhere then I’m busy.” He turns back to his work with a grumble.

  
Turning on your heel you rush out to join the other refugees in line at the chantry for some food and maybe a new tunic if you’re lucky. It’s late afternoon by the time the line finally gets to you. It occurs to you just how tight the resources are, so when they offer the small ration you decline. Instead you ask if they need help with anything. A few shocked sisters nod and point out a women across the yard next to another very cluttered table, but instead of weapons and armor its stacks of paper. You hurry over. Introvert you may be, but when others need the help you won’t stand by and watch. “Excuse me, Serah.”

  
She gives you a quick glance before returning to the several forms in her hands “If you’re here to clean Hess can get a mop and a bucket. If anyone calls you Knife-ear come to me.”

  
“Um, thank you, but I’m not here to clean. I was wondering if I could do anything for the sisters that would help the refugees.”

  
She looks up and at you for a long time just taking you in. “Name’s Threnn: Inquisition Quartermaster. You want to help out then take a look at these requisitions if you find what they need I’d be grateful.” She hands you a couple from the stack. They’re simple requests, things like elfroot, iron, meat, hides, even one for a logging location. You tuck them quickly into your pocket and head for the front gate.You’ll start with elfroot since they only need a few bundles and maybe pick some extras for quick coin.

  
As you near the gate you hear a familiar gruff voice, Seggrit. “Hey Knife-ear get over here.” Your jaw clicks with the force of your clench, but you move to his table quietly. “Did you relay the message?” You nod. “Well? What was his answer?”

  
You contemplate looking for some deathroot while you’re out, but shake the thought away. “He decided to harvest his own.” The look Seggrit gives you makes the color drain from your face.

  
“Did he now?” He says through gritted teeth. “Here. For your work.” He drops about a dozen coppers in your hand which you stare at. You didn’t expect payment. “Swing by here tomorrow I’ll give you a few more to makes runs for me regularly.” Your ears droop a bit this is a bribe. Has to be.

  
“Yes, Ser. I will be here tomorrow, Ser.” You not going to turn down the chance to earn coin enough to buy what you’ll need. Bowing quickly you continue down the stairs and out through the gates. They open to a large clear area. To your left is the stables and blacksmith and to your right you see several tents with soldiers skirmishing anywhere there's room. You head right, skirting the fighting soldiers and heading towards the woods.

  
Elfroot is a common, hardy plant and your trained eyes spot it immediately. You collect the herb and search for a logging sight as you move further and further into the woods. You come across a lone cabin, but decide it's best to avoid strange buildings and keep hunting elfroot. You keep it up for hours, tying bundles with the stems of other plants you come across and converting you tunic into a pack to carry it all with.. By evening you’ve gathered quite a bit of elfroot and even located a decent logging spot. You pull the small hunting knife from your boot and carve a special mark into a nearby tree to mark the spot.

  
The trek back to Haven is an arduous one due to the heavy load of elfroot and your bare torso which has turned very pink in the cold. You need to hurry and warm up. Picking up the pace, Haven comes into view. Almost all the soldiers are resting or finishing up dinner, though some have decided they need more practice, mostly elves. Which really doesn’t surprise you. More to prove leads to higher work ethic. You adjust the makeshift pack on your shoulder mentally preparing yourself for the lingering eyes on your torso. People stare. Get over it, but, boy do they. One recruit’s eyes lock onto your body as you walk by causing her to trip over the corner of a tent and plow her face into the snow. Her stew spilling everywhere, on everyone. You choke on a laugh. Don’t laugh at the soldiers, idiot. Don’t get yourself killed on your first day. If you ask if she’s okay you know you’ll only serve to embarrass her further so you ignore her groans. She’s holding a hand over her nose. Did she break it? No. Stop looking. With her hand covering half of her face you can only see her deep green eyes that, unsurprisingly, are still locked on you as you move slowly by. The helmet she had been wearing rest in the snow at her side and without it your eyes are free to drift slowly over the loosely braided hair hanging over her shoulder. It’s a dark red contrasting with her pale skin and bringing out the small freckles spread out over the parts of her face you can see. Her smooth round ears snap you back to reality making you quicken your walk by her. Human, huh? Still, she’s beautiful.

  
Ignoring her is no easy task, especially when something cold slams into your shoulder making you stumble. Snow? “Arse!” Another ball of snow land on your makeshift pack and you turn to face your assailant. “What kind of man are ya? Who disnae stop to ask a lady if she’s alright?” Her face is crimson and you can’t help but smile. She makes a face when you do, her hands pausing their assembly of another ball of snow. Chuckling slightly you turn and continue to the gate. A burning sensation spreads quickly over your whole face and it's definitely not because of the cold. You feel bad for ignoring her. It’s so against your nature it makes you itch, but that accent of hers did a number on you and you need to get far from it. You’re almost to the gate when you’re assaulted again this time it's not snow. Something heavy wraps around your head whipping it forward. “Put on a shirt, idiot!” Disentangling the object from your head quickly you realize it's a thick woolen tunic and brand new at that. You can't accept this.

  
You start to decline as you turn, but she's already gone. The shirt feels heavy in your hands, you need to give it back, but a sudden violent shiver shakes your body reminding you just how cold you are. Maybe you should put it on for now, at least until you’ve delivered the elfroot and can use your own again. Quickly shrugging it on, it’s baggy but not excessively so, you make your way to Adan’s first he may still be there.  
Varric gives you a wave as you walk by which, shockingly, you return. You keep to the right and when you get to the door of the tavern the smell of the food floors you. An angry beast wakes in your stomach causing a small whimper to escape you. Don’t think about it. Others need the food more. Keep working then when you’re done you can think about it. The tavern is way too hectic to even understand what’s going on. That blonde elf is obviously an enabler you should avoid. ‘Chuckles’ isn't there when you pass by and you suspect that maybe he’s gone inside, but you don't dwell too hard on it and push on.

  
Adan groans when the door creaks open not even turning to see who it is, “What could you possible still need? Honestly, I have important wo-” He finally turns around and notices the bulging tunic over your shoulder which shuts him up. Placing it on the floor you pull out bundle after bundle making sure to leave five for Threnn and hand them to Adan. He grins, actually grins. “Were you picking all day? Maker this is a lot. I’ll be supplied for a week maybe more. Here, take it, you’ve certainly earned it.” He tosses you a coin purse and you shove it into your pocket. “Not even going to count it?”

  
“I see no need to. I believe you to be an honest man.” Turning on your heel you exit heading straight to the requisitions table. When you place the bundle in the table with the accompanying requisition Threnn looks up from her work. “I also located a decent sight for that logging camp and marked it with this symbol.” You grab a quill and quickly sketch it out push it closer to her.

  
“Thank you. I appreciate the hard work. You didn’t have to, but you did. Keep this up and maybe I can get you something for your trouble.” She nods her head and turns back to her work.

  
It’s getting pretty late into evening around the time you walk back down to the tavern. As you near the roar ripples in your stomach again and you groan. You need to get something in you, but that tavern is a whole different story you don't want to read. Varric catches you before you can get away, placing his hands on your back and pushing you toward the door. “Oh, no you don’t, Noisy, you’re going in there.” A strangled cry, resembling that of a cat being forced to bathe, escapes you. It draws a mischievous laugh from Varric as he continues to push you inside. You stumble over the threshold as well as away from Varric, who is still chuckling to himself. “Welcome to The Singing Maiden, Noisy.” He shouts over the noise of the tavern, holding up his hands as he spins in a slow circle on his way to an empty table nearby.

  
“Varric I don-” Something slams into you toppling you over. “What the f-” It’s that strange elf. Her face is turned and she’s yelling at someone behind her.

  
“Sorry ‘bout this. That pric-” Pausing in her explanation when her eyes fall over you. “And you’re an elf. Well…” She holds out a hand helping you up, but puts on a sour face.

  
“Looks like you’ve already met Noisy, Buttercup.” Varric gets the attention of one of the barmaids most like placing an order.

  
“Let’s just hope he’s not too… elfy.” She shrugs and wanders off into the crowd.

  
Still dusting yourself off you creep slowly to the table as Varric beckons you over. When you sit the barmaid comes back with two mugs and a platter of meats, cheeses and bread. Your mouth waters, but Varric ordered this for himself you’re certain. He takes a long slow drink from his mug before leveling a questioning look at you. “You should eat up. I could hear your stomach growling halfway across Haven.”

  
Eyeing the plate suspiciously. “That’s for me?”

  
“Of course. So is the drink. It's on me tonight since it's your first day.”

  
“I couldn’t possibly accept. I haven’t done anything to earn this from you.”

  
“Noisy, stop. The way you’ve been running around today, going out of the way to gather things for the other refugees, turning down offers of food and warmth. You’ve done more than enough to earn this.” He pushes the plate closer to you. “Eat up.”

  
You want to protest further but your stomach lurches painfully and half the plate is down the hatch before you can blink. The first food you’ve had in a couple of days.

  
Varric eyes you worriedly as you gulp down the contents of your mug greedily, “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

  
Your eyebrows pinch together. Slowly you place the mug on the table, “It's not unusual for me to go without food. I suppose it's been a few days. I gave away my pack and rations on the way to Haven. The family I passed needed it more. They had four children to feed and keep warm along with themselves, so I traded them my pack as well as any food I had for one of their hunting knives.” Shrugging nonchalantly you pull the carefully sharpened dagger from your boot wiggling it so Varric knows it's what you were speaking of before sheathing it back in your boot.

  
“You’re kidding me.” His eye wide as he takes another drink. Placing the cup down, he leans into the table. “You are joking right?”

  
Your ears twitch. “No. I’m not joking”

  
“May I ask why you’d give them everything? I understand wanting to help them out, but giving them all your belongings...” He shakes his head then places his chin on the newly formed bridge of his fingers, embodying his inquiry.

  
“I won’t hesitate to help anyone in need. If that means I go hungry so be it. I will not be a cause of burden on their lives.” A heat rises in your cheeks. Why are you being so honest? There’s no obligation to tell him anything, but the words continue to tumble from your mouth. ”It's how I was raised. My mother said that acts of kindness can bridge any gaps in language or race. That if I could touch the life of someone else through kindness and compassion then they too would touch someone in the same way. To break the chains of anger, contempt and cruelty you must meet them with sympathy, compassion and kindness. Well, at least that's what my mother brought me up to believe.” You stare at the mug between your hands until the barmaid fills both yours and Varric’s before taking the now empty plate from the table and quickly disappearing into the crowd.

  
There’s low whistle that bring your eyes up to meet Varric’s. “That’s… Well your mother certainly sounds like a great woman. Did she come to Haven with you? I’d love to meet her.”

  
“She’s dead.” You say way too quickly. Varric is physically knocked back by your bluntness.

  
“I’m sorry. How... No, that’s not something I should ask.” He rubs the back of his neck his face visibly uncomfortable with the conversation.

  
“It was sickness. Consumption. She hid it from everyone, so we didn't know until it was too late to save her. Not that we even could have.” The last expression she ever had flashes through your mind. She’s choking on her own blood. She’s in pain and you’re helpless as the strength in the grip of her hand in yours slowly eases.

  
“-sy? Hey! You okay?” Varric’s waving his hand wildly in front of your face.

  
Blinking quickly you nod. “Yeah, I’m just thinking. How much is a bow here?”

  
Varric seems glad for the subject change. “I believe it's somewhere in the fifty silver area. Fifty-three to be exact.”

  
Groaning your exasperation, hands raking their way through your hair. “How many days is it going to take to make enough to buy a bow? The sisters need more food for to feed the refugees, but in order to fill the requisition I’ll need get a bow to hunt with.”

  
“How much do you have?”

  
“What?” You pass your raking to give him a confused look.

  
“Your earn money today correct?” You nod. “Did you count it?” That receives a slow shake and Varric sighs heavily. “Hand it here, Noisy. I’ll do it.” Passing him your coin purse which he immediately dumps into his hand. His eyes shift quickly over the coins then he pours them back into the purse and tosses it back to you. “Eleven silver. Twelve bronze. That’s quite the haul for one day. What did you do all day?” He chuckles.

  
“I-I-I picked elfroot.” The small purse seems to give off a holy light in your hands. “What I didn’t need for the requisition I sold to Adan. He offered a silver for each bundle I brought in for him.”

  
“Elfroot is worth three, but it's true that money is tight around here so one is a pretty good offer.” Varric rubs his chin. What’s he thinking? “Well it’s late Noisy. You should finish your mead and hit the hay.”

  
“Wait.” You look lazily into the mug. “This was mead? Shit.” Eyes widening a bit, no wonder you're being so open.

  
Varric laughs so hard his chair leans back almost toppling over. “Do you have a sense of taste? You downed a whole mug and a half without noticing what you were drinking.”

  
“I’ve never had anything like this before.” It’s sweet. “It tastes pretty good.” You tip back the rest of the mug. Varric does this kind of snicker that makes you think you’ve made a mistake. You probably did.

  
“Come see me in the morning. It should be interesting for both of us.” He stands up, leaving through the door you had been pushed through.

  
You’re alone in a crowd of loud drunken soldiers. Your eyes lock on her immediately. The girl from before. She’s in the middle of a group of soldiers and, by the looks of her sweeping hand gestures, very animated about something. Her hair is no longer braided and falls in thick red waves over her shoulders and across her face. Unusual for a soldier. She laughs at something someone says. It’s a loud and very real laugh, the kind that knocks you back and bring tears to your eyes. It’s been so long since you’ve seen one as pure and unburdened as that, it’s absolutely captivating. Her eyes drift over the crowd as she wipes at the tears when they pass over you then snap back. You feel the daggers she's mentally throwing your way from across the tavern. It’s uncomfortable to the point that it makes you visibly squirm. The tavern feels hot, the tunic feels hot, your blood feels hot. You stumble over yourself as you bolt.

  
Cool, crisp night air washes over you. You drink it in with ravenous need. One could swear to see steam rolling off of you as you cool off. Whatever that feeling was, you need to get to the bottom of it and soon. Looking up you realize how late its gotten. You need to find a place to rest. Looking to your right you notice a couple of large bundles of hay to the side of the tavern. You shrug. It’s better than nothing.

  
After moving the bundles into a more practical sleeping position you lay down and let out a yawning groan. With the day you’ve had, combined with the alcohol, rest comes easy and you slip quickly and quietly into the Fade. Your last thoughts are of green forest and dark red waves.


	2. Recruitment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been awhile since i posted a new chapter XD I've been super distracted.  
> Shoutout to my chat friends who help me out when I'm stumped I love that band of goofs.  
> Alright, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

There’s a heavy throb echoing through your skull when you blink yourself awake. Hands come up to rub away the biting cold from your cheeks only to meet fresh trails of wetness. Pulling one hand away you study a small bead clinging to your finger, then quickly use the back of your sleeve you wipe them away. You send an icy glare up at the dark, star littered sky. Looks like you’re up before dawn again. Your dreams no longer offer any solace from the world, only serving to instil more trauma. Deep breaths. Rolling up onto your feet, it takes a few moments for you to gage your surroundings. You’re in Haven, it’s early, and the sun is barely beginning to bleed light into the sky between the mountains. There’s a nip in the air that makes you wish you hadn’t given away your coat. The thought is short lived, but enough to make you penitent. Your health is of little consequence.

You’re still getting used to sleeping outside and you feel it. Sore muscles will slow you down if you don't work them. Running a hand through your shaggy, surely sleep-raggled, hair to get it out of your eyes, you comb it into some kind of normal state. When you’re pretty much satisfied with it you multitask walking and stretching as you head toward the gate. Why not get in some good exercise before meeting Seggrit?

“Noisy!” Varric’s voice stops you in your tracks. He’s waving you over from the fire pit between the tents. Why are there tents here anyway? Who uses them? You shrug and walk over. “You look like you spent the night in a barn.”

“I very well could have.” Still sour, but it makes Varric's laugh. “Listen, Varric, good morning and all, but I really need to go out.”

“Not until I pass along something from a friend.” He pulls out a long bundle of cloth from under the bench he’s sitting on and hands it to you. “Knock yourself out.”

Carefully, you unwrap the cloth to reveal a bow. Time freezes as your eyes ease over every miniscule detail along the slightly curved limbs, the intricate yet smooth weave of the leather grip, the flowing script carefully carved into the dark wood… Is this dalish make? This is a thousand times better than anything you could hope to buy from a trader, and a hundred times beyond your skill to make. Maker, you're drooling. “T-this…” You look up at Varric. “I can't accept this… Oh Maker… I really can't” Even as you say it you pull the bow close to your body.

“My friend has a nervous habit. She made too many, so she was giving them out. Asked if I knew anyone who needed one. So really. Don’t worry about it. ” He waves his hands. “Why don't you go test it out whenever you get the chance and tell me how you like it.”

“Certainly. Thank you Varric for thinking of me. Tell this friend… Well, tell her thanks from me for the bow. Also, I’d be very interested in meeting her if that would be possible.” You tighten your grip on it as if to reassure yourself it’s real.

“Will do, and I may be able to arrange that. Now go on, I’ve taken enough time.” With that he shoos you off.

Bowing your head slightly you make for the gate passing Seggrit’s unmanned table. Smiling to yourself, you take comfort in the knowledge that it's so early that you don't have to worry about anyone being out. Not even the servants or recruits are up this early. Why was Varric? Weird. Taking a deep breath and lifting your arms in the air, you release it all in a relieved sigh, “Nothing like crisp pre-dawn air to refresh the soul.”

Your ears twitch at the sound of shouting near the tents. With your interest peaked, you move closer. A set of horns each easily longer than your arms show from behind a tent. A qunari here? Yes, even here. A large, very muscular qunari is standing in the middle of the training grounds shouting at someone half buried in a snowbank. “Come on Kremsicle, you’re still moving too slow.” There’s a grunt from the young man. The sides and back of his head are shaved close, with the middle left long. The man looks a little winded, strands of his now disheveled hair flop onto his forehead, he quickly combs them back with his hand as he stands. For such a cold morning he’s dressed lightly in a loose sleeveless tunic which, surprisingly, he has sweated through.

“C’mon Chief we’ve been at it for hours,” he complains, arms flying out from his sides in frustration.

The Qunari chuckles.“You know, usually when someone says that to me it’s under very different circumstance.” The man levels him with a look and sighs as he rubs the side of his face. “Again. We won’t stop until you land the move.” As if it was his cue, the man runs at this bull-like giant. Ducking under one arm as it swings, he's blindsided by a knee in the gut. He falls to the ground wheezing and coughing. “Again.”

You cringe and take that as a cue to leave. When you reach the woods your body tenses. Memories flash through your mind of dark woods and hungry eyes. You shake them away and quickly scan your surroundings, checking if you're alone. Once you’re sure no one’s around you hook the bow across your body and break into a dead run. Trees whipping past you as you weave between them, bounding through the thick brush and snow like some kind of wild animal. You leap every so often to catch a sturdy looking branch that you quickly swing from and continue running. The air feels so great against your face. With the bow you feel whole again. You haven't let loose like this in years, but it feels like only yesterday you were running through the wilds with your father. He tried his best to raise you the way his father raised him, the Dalish way, but outside of a clan living amongst humans it was… You falter in your footing, slip and tumble over a snowbank, landing hard on the wooden planks of a dock. There’s a startled squeak and you turn your head. Maker no…

“You!” The accent hits you immediately.

“Me.” Sarcasm very much present in your voice as you push yourself up onto your feet and dust the snow off. Heat already settling in your stomach as you take her in. She’s sitting at the end of the docks, legs dangling over the edge several feet above the solid lake, surrounded by papers, ink, and even a few lit candles. Her hair is weaved loosely into the same over-the-shoulder braid as when you first saw her. She’s out of her armor and in loose green tunic that remains untied at the neck. Your eyes latch onto the pale skin peeking from between the ties.

“What’re you doing here?” She’s a flustered mess as she tries, and fails, to cover up her horror.

A wide grin splits your face. “Me? Well, I'm just dropping in.” There’s a small coughing noise as she quickly looks away covering her mouth and the tips of your ears burn. She’s hiding her laugh. Well that’s cute. She appeared to have been writing something before, but now she's quickly gathering up her things. Is she leaving? “Wait.” The word rushes out unexpectedly, she pauses, peering curiously up at you from behind flowing bangs. “I…. um well…” Groaning at the lack of words coming out, your hand goes to rub at the back of your neck. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She looks confused, but then her eyes light up. There’s that smile you saw last night. Heat spreads slowly across your face.

“I-I-I….” Calm breaths, Seth, calm breaths. “You fell because of me. I saw blood, which means you were hurt. I should’ve asked if you were okay, but I figured I’d just embarrass you further. Though, I fear I made it worse by not saying anything.” You let out a relieved breath. Thank the Maker you got that off your chest. She looks taken aback, mouth gaping…. You shake your head to clear it. What is wrong with you right now? “So, can we start over? My name’s Seth. What's yours?” You hold out your hand for a handshake and immediately regret it when hers tentatively molds to yours.

“Mairi.” She says with the smallest hint of a laugh. Oh Maker, you truly are doomed.

“May I sit with you?” She doesn’t say anything, just grabs the rest of her things and scoots over, patting the wood at her side. You sit, legs dangling, like hers, over the edge, high above the frozen lake. “So what are you doing out so early?” Noticing, for the first time, the notebook she’s clutching tightly to her chest.

“Habit, I guess. Growing up in the Chantry usually meant rising before the sun.” She shrugs.

“That tells me why you’re up, not what you were doing.” Oh great, you're starting off a smartass, this'll end well. “You were writing something weren't you?” You eye the notebook.

She stiffens. “I… Yes. Well, not writing, but… As I said, I grew up in the Chantry and they give us a pretty broad foundation in art and literature. It’s not just learning the Chant and praying.” She lets out a nervous laugh that’s all breath and makes your ears twitch.

“So you were drawing?” You press. She nods. “May I see?” She shakes her head, tightening her grip on the poor thing. Hmmmmm. You both sit in silence for awhile, content to just listen to the world wake up. “You said you grew up in a Chantry. Why? Which one?”

“Starkhaven if you couldn’t tell from the accent, but as to why... Well, I’m an orphan.” You stomach free falls. “The mothers found me on the steps one morning, wrapped in a blanket with "Arkell" embroidered on the corner. They took me in, named and raised me. I owe them everything, yet here I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“I left. I felt I had a duty to help protect the people after the Conclave, but they said let Ferelden solve their own mess. Why should they get our help if they’re so keen on sheltering the mages. I didn’t agree with them and we fought, so I packed up and left.” She’s pulls one of her knees to her chest and is rests her chin there.

“I’m sorry I brought it up, but, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to come here.” You freeze. Where did that come from? Her eyes, shining with an emotion you are all too familiar with, hold you in a wide eyed stare. She’s about as shocked as you. “I mean, you know, you stood up for what you believed was right, even if it went against everything and everyone you knew. Admirable.” Smooth.

“Thank you.” She stares at you for a few moments longer before turning her gaze back out at the frozen lake. For what seems like an eternity, you’re left to fidget awkwardly in the silence that has fallen between the two of you. “So what about you?” Her voice suddenly chimes in.

“What about me?” “Well, how did you end up here?” She glances back over at you.

Now it's your turn to stare broodingly at the frozen lake. You see Haven beginning to wake. Smoke is rising from the smithy and a few figures are slowly making their way to and from the gates. She nudges you with her shoulder. “Which version would you like: Long or short?”

“Hmmm, either is fine, but I wouldn’t mind the long version if it’s okay with you.” She gives you an encouraging smile and you let out a sigh.

“Okay, long story it is. I was living with some family friends on a small farm just outside of Redcliffe. They took me in after my mother died. Gave me a bed, food, and clothes. In exchange, I helped out around their farm when I wasn’t working in Redcliffe at the Blacksmith’s. They treated me like a second son even though I’m an elf. We had a pretty good harvest this year and figured we’d head to the crossroads to sell the fruits of our labor. We knew the roads weren’t as safe since the mages moved into Redcliffe, but figured with the conclave being held it would be at its safest. What we didn’t know was that the conclave was attacked... The fighting had started again… It happened so fast.” There’s a burning feeling behind your eyes and you lean your face into your hands to hide it. A light touch on your shoulder makes you look up. Not at her though, not yet. You take a deep breath.

“What were their names?” Her voice is quiet, calm and reassuring, it reminds you of the sisters at the Crossroads whispering softly to the sick and dying.

“The man’s name was Auden. His wife’s name was Elais. Their son, Kit... He was only seven.” Your shoulders hitch and you look to your feet dangling in the air. Stay strong.

She returns her hand to the edge of the dock, the strength of her grip turning her knuckles white. You glance over at her, eyes catching each others. “I know no amount of ‘I’m sorry’ will help, but…” Her eyes search yours as she visibly struggles with what words to say. You rest your hand on hers. She means well, but she’s right… A tight smile lets her know that you understand then you both look out again.

You sit like that for awhile, side by side with your hand on hers, in silence. This whole thing is so out of character, you can't help but think that she brings it out of you. Soon enough she pulls her hand from under yours to clear her throat. “I see you're wearing my tunic. I was worried it wouldn’t fit, but I see that it does.”

Your eyes widen slowly, you look down. “I-I am.” You need to give it back, but you handed yours to Threnn when you turned in the elfroot. “I wanted to give it back… I should…” You grab the ends and start pulling it up.

“No!” Her hands are on you, pulling it back down. Her fingertips brush against the skin of your sides, something in your stomach flutters and you stiffen. Heat spreads through your whole body, but you notice that she’s fazed as well. You’re both crimson and you quickly let go of the tunic, grab her hands and place them against the dock, carefully avoiding her eyes.

Rubbing the back of your head, trying to be nonchalant. “I think I’ll keep it on. Wouldn’t want you to fall off the dock or anything.” You force out a nervous laugh.

“Oh har har. I trip once and you think that's how it’ll always be.” She punches your arm lightly.

“It was a pretty extreme reaction, you have to admit.” Rubbing the place she hit. It didn't hurt, but her touch make your skin burn.

“I’ve never seen that much skin revealed before. Deliberately… In public… With confidence...” You just gape at her. “I grew up in a Chantry.” You continue to gape. “I lived in single gender housing.”

“Not even templars when they trained?”

“Not even templars.”

“Well now I feel like I deflowered you or something.”

“Arse!” This time she really punches your arm, but you just laugh and rub the spot. She looks up and curses under her breath. “Training starts soon, but I’m having fun.” You look up and surely enough the sun beginning to turn the sky bright pink and orange. “Commander Cullen’s just going to yell at us all day.” She heaves a sigh and gets up.

“I’ll walk back with you. I need to see Seggrit anyway.” You hop up and fall in step next to her, glancing her way every now and then to catch her blushing smile.

“So you just got here, right? Did they assign you a job? Do you work for Seggrit?” A grimace graces the end of that question.

A low laugh tumbles out of you. “I don’t work for him per say… Just agreed to run messages in my spare time. I’d hate to leave him for another poor elf to deal with.” You let out a tired sigh. “I came here to do whatever I can to help the people affected by this ridiculous war.”

“Did you see the recruiters when you came in? You told them you wanted to join the Inquisition, right?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Wait.” She grabs your arm and stops. “You didn't check-in or anything?”

“Nooooooo?” You hadn’t really thought any of it through at the time. “I just kind of walked in and got thrown into it.”

Her head falls back and she lets out an exasperated groan. “You need to speak to the recruiters.” With your arm still firmly in her grip she starts to drag you along.

* * *

 

Soon enough you’re in front of the gate you came through on the way to Haven. It’s just as busy with every kind of refugee coming through. Inquisition officers, you never noticed before, run this way and that, handing out meager rations and water. Most of all, they’re trying to organize the jumbled mess of people into the ones that can be of use or ones that need to be relocated.

"Edith!” One of the officers snaps her head up, looking around wildly until she finally spots Mairi and runs over. Her tan skin is smooth and her thick black hair is bound in a tight braided bun. She’s clad in heavy armor, the Inquisition heraldry on the chestplate, with an iron kite shield strapped to her back and a longsword at her hip. It’s rather intimidating especially when she eyes you with cold distaste. You instinctively slouch to seem small and unimposing.

“Hello dear, need something?” Her voice rolls richly off her tongue. Antivan? No. Hmmm. “This… elf bothering you?”

Mairi puffs out her cheeks, obviously irritated. “Edith, don’t be mean. He’s a friend.”

Edith looks you up and down and tsks. “Just looking out for you dear. You’re still so young and impressionable.” Orlesian? Maybe...

Mairi makes a tsking noise. “I’m twenty, that’s not that young. Anyway, he wants to join the Inquisition.”

“Agree to disagree about the age matter.” Edith turns on you, taking a few steps forward and you have to step back to keep a good distance. She pulls out a few papers and a quill from the bag on her hip. “Alright. What’s your name then?.” She demands, quill at the ready.

“Seth, M’lady.” You voice barely comes out.

“Elves.” Her eyes roam you up and down before rolling as she writes. “How old are you?” When you don’t answer immediately she flicks the quill over your nose. “I need to rule out certain occupations.”

“I’m twenty-two.” No matter how much you rub your nose it still tickles.

“Ah.. and how skilled are you with that bow?” She taps the quill on your shoulder, then gestures to your body. “Any kind of combat training? What are your skills exactly?”

“Uh…” That seems like a lot. You do have training, but how can you help refugees as a scout? You fear lying to this woman though. “My skills are those of any young man in Ferelden really, hunting, farming, manual labor.” You shrug and she aims a glare in your direction that seemingly says ‘Do not waste my time.’ “I-I was a blacksmith’s apprentice in Redcliffe for about eight years, but yes, I do have some combat training and I am decent with a bow. ”

“Finally, someone useful.” She writes something down then hands it to Mairi who quickly looks it over. “Get him sorted then hand him over to Master Harritt. Don’t be late to training Mairi. I don’t want to see you punished because of him.” There’s another pointed glare at you. You’re starting to believe that her permanent expression.

“Thanks Edith.” She smiles and waves as Edith walks back over to the crowd, but as soon as she disappears Mairi frowns. “Come on. I’ll take you to pick up your clothes and such.”

“So what have I been assigned?” You peek over her shoulder as you walk to see the note, but trying to read that handwriting is impossible.

“You’re to be an assistant under Master Harritt. He’s the blacksmith here.” She walks a little faster to stay ahead of you.

“Are you upset with me, again?” She halts and you ram into her.

“No.” She looks at you and you realize how similar in height the two of you are.

“You know, you’re short for a human.” A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“Maybe you're tall for an elf.” She says pointedly with a tiny tone of irritation and an eye roll. “Come on, I need to get you sorted so I can go bash people with a shield.”

The two of you make your way into Haven and all the way over to Threnn’s. Mairi hands over the note, and after a great deal of angry, sarcastic remarks to her workers, Threnn hands the note back along with a large bag, a fur bedroll, and a tent. “Hope you can still help out around here on your days off kid.” With that she goes back to flipping through papers and telling people to ‘Piss off.’ Taking that as dismissal, Mairi leads you down out of Haven and over to a grouping of tents near the lake.

“I’ve never seen this area before.”

“You’ve been here, what, a day? Of course not.” She sets down the tent and start unrolling the poles and pegs. “This area is used by recruits and workers since there aren't enough buildings to house everyone. You’re actually lucky Threnn gave you a tent, must be on her good side.” She tosses up a pole to you as she finishes laying out the tent, folded in half and laying on one side. “It’ll be easier and faster with two people. Hook yours through and on three we swing it up.” She grabs another pole and walks to the other side.

“Won’t you be late?” You stick the pin nail through your hoop.

"I don’t mind the run. One. Two. Three.” Together you stand up the tent. “We both pull right, got it?”

“Mairi, I know how to set up a tent.” You both carefully pull out the sides opposite each other to keep it balanced then secure them to the ground with the pegs. After you set the rest of the pegs, you clear the inside of any new snow and lay down the thick ground sheet. You’re unrolling the bedroll when the large bag lands next to you.

“I need to go. Here’s the note. You know where the Smithy is, right?” Mairi leans inside and hands you the note as you give her an affirmative nod. “Good. Don’t forget to change into a new tunic and anything else you need out of the bag. Don’t want you ruining my tunic with embers now.” She gives you a wink and lets the flap fall into place as she leaves.

Looking through your bag of new goodies you find a thick long sleeve cotton tunic and you switch out Mairi’s, folding it and placing it to the side. Next, you pull on new pants, reloop your belt, change into new socks and lace on your old leather boots. You put your old tattered clothing to the side, you can patch it up later, and rush out to meet Master Harritt.

* * *

 

It’s mid morning when you walk into the open air smithy with about the same amount of confidence as a cricket in a crowd. The sights and smells are nostalgic, reminding you of the small hut you shared with you mom in Redcliffe before her health went south. “Need something lad?” A thick Fereldan voice comes from behind you making you jump.

Turning to see a bald older man with tired, but fierce eyes and a large copper mustache magnifying his stern expression with an ever present frown, you stutter out your best explanation. “I-I… You… Assistant… Here.” You thrust forth the note like it’ll shield you from sight and he takes it. As he looks it over there’s a low hum of comprehension coming from him.

“Alright. The names Harritt. You know your way around a forge? Should if you worked in one for eight years.” He walks over to the wall and pulls down a leather apron, handing it to you. “What can you forge?”

As you tie on the apron you gain back the all of your past experience. “Anything from horseshoes and nails to shields and battle axes.”

Harritt smiles. “What materials can you work with?”

“I’ve seen it all, Ser.” A confident smirk pulls at your mouth to mimic his. You have a feeling you’ll like this man.

“I like you lad. We’ll get along very well.” He hands you a hammer and a nail header. “I need five dozen nails before lunch. Can you do it?”

“Better, I can have them within an hour.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Get back there and get to work.” He pats your shoulder and you rush off to find a work space.


End file.
